Mission Log #1

Well, it's been a bit, sorry about that. I haven't been feeling the best lately. Things have been happening. Anyway, this is the first of what will hopefully be a regular thing: posting mission logs for you all to read. This one is about a human trafficking ring that we closed down. In Moldova of all places..

So, we don't just deal specifically in Class 3 (Fear)-related incidents. They are our specialty, but we also are given other tasks by our benefactors. This one was tasked to us, as one of those nations inserted a mole into the trafficking ring. (In the form of being kidnapped.) We tracked the poor sod to Moldova, where we found multiple cells. Our objective was to rescue the informant, and 'discourage' the other cells. The briefing was simple: we knew how many targets were there, and we knew how many civs were present. I think the whole thing was very stereotypical: it was in a warehouse. We were ready to go, Jenkins was confident that his team was up to the task, Doc was on stand-by for any possible injuries, and O'Conner's squad was itching to go. All of Raven squad is still on leave at the moment, so we're making do with who we have left. I opted to join the strike team, much to Doc's surprise.

Hattery dropped us in two separate locations, then waited for the 'go' signal for extraction. The operation went rather smoothly, up until one of the moment that a grenade went off and caused a support beam to fall. This lead to a weak section of the roof to fall, and caused a gas tank to start leaking. I'm sure you can read between the lines. I got separated from the other two squads. One of them was in front of me, his back turned. So, I aimed my rifle. Click. I only had one more magazine. While I hurriedly swapped them out, he turned. Apparently, he was close enough to hear me through all of the chaos. I tried firing again, and the rifle jammed. The first time that any of these rifles jammed. I threw it down and pulled out the only weapon that would never become unreliable: my knife. As I jumped towards him, I saw his face. He looked like Carter.

We collided and he fell, with my knife in his chest. I just kept stabbing over and over. Well past when he was surely dead. I think I hit every major organ in the body, I think. I can't really remember. I know that I just kept stabbing, and then the next thing I knew I was against a wall. With Sean looking at me. He looked worried and his lips kept moving. I couldn't hear him. In a daze, I looked around. The fires were out, and the civs were being evacuated to the Osprey. I looked at my hands: they were covered in blood. I didn't have my knife either. I felt something touch my arm, it was Sean, trying to get my attention. His lips kept moving, and slowly I was able to make out what he was saying: "Ma'am, follow my finger with your eyes only. Nod if you understand." He kept repeating it, so I nodded. He moved his index finger left and right. Up and down. Diagonal one way, then back the other. I followed the movements carefully. Satisfied that I wasn't in shock, he said that he was going to escort me to the Osprey then take over the clean up part of the operation. I said no.

I walked back to where I thought the man was. The one who was Carter, but couldn't be. I saw the body laying there. As I approached I noticed that my knife was buried in his chest. The blade wasn't even visible. I leaned over the body as if to collect my knife, and looked at his face. I felt like time slowed as I glanced in that direction. Then everything became normal again when I saw that it wasn't Carter. I don't even know how I'd gotten so confused, he looked nothing like Carter. I pulled the knife out, and sheathed it as Sean walked over to me. He handed me my rifle, and walked me to the Osprey. I sat there until we made it back to the plane. The operation was a total success, all civs were accounted for (and alive), all bad guys were dead, and the message was sent to the other cells.

There were just two problems: One, we found traces of Azoth in one of the corpses. These guys weren't your average smugglers. Two, me. Doc came and talked to me about what happened. He told me to include it in this report. As a way to try and cope with what had happened. I'm worried. I don't know what I'll do if this happens again.

That's all for now, I need to catch up on some sleep. I'll try and post one of these whenever I can. As Carter would say: Stay safe. -- Sam

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